


Bottled Storm

by idkmanokay



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Mckono, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sexual Content, When will they come back, i will singlehandedly revive this ship, if you squint there's Danny/Kono/steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkmanokay/pseuds/idkmanokay
Summary: She doesn't like the way the blue glimmers with concern, the way he seems to unconsciously follow her every move, even though he's drinking too. Her head screams that he's her boss. The logical side of her begs her to stop, to sober up and stay that way. The booze whispers questions about whether he's that intense in bed, tells her she survived enough and deserves to forget for a little bit. To live a little bit, to see if that staring is just friendly concern or something more.





	Bottled Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I will singlehandedly revive this ship if I have to its died out recently and I am not here for that

She doesn't mean to get drunk.

As safe as she feels surrounded by her team, she doesn't like getting drunk in front of them.

Hates it, in fact. Despises every second of her loose lips and hips, the way the mold she's carefully fit herself and the others around her in crumbles away. Eyes that see too much don't turn away from her, and no matter how much she glares at Steve, he doesn't back down. She doesn't like the way the blue glimmers with concern, the way he seems to unconsciously follow her every move, even though he's drinking too. Her head screams that he's her boss. The logical side of her begs her to stop, to sober up and stay that way. The booze whispers questions about whether he's that intense in bed, tells her she survived enough and deserves to forget for a little bit. To live a little bit, to see if that staring is just friendly concern or something more.

No, Kono doesn't like getting drunk with her team.

But here she is, too many tequilas in, and the buzz has turned into a roaring in her brain she can't stop or turn off.

(Does she even want to turn it off? She doesn't know anymore.)

After 5, counting seemed too hard, and she still couldn't get the feel of blood and hands off of her, so she kept drinking. When she looks down, it looks like there's blood across her beat knuckles, even though she knows it's just her mind playing tricks on her again. Mentally, she berates herself. She's a cop; why is she so turned around and cut up by this?

Chin had tried to stop her once, but the look she'd given him had stopped him cold in his tracks. Even her cousin wasn't going to fight her on this. So, she stalks off to the bar, abandoning her team in the booth, needing just the quiet solidarity of the booze and the music and eyes that don't see through her.

The bartender has a shot ready for her when she gets there, lime and salt waiting. In the back of her mind, she makes a mental note to tip him well. He has an easy smile, pretty brown eyes. Easy to love, easy on the eyes. Not intense, not a storm waiting for the moment to be unleashed. Safe. She smiles as him, letting it grow wider as he sends a crooked grin back her way. It's not the smile she craves, dreams about, but it'll do.

She ignores the mental war waging in the dominant part of her mind, telling her to do something stupider than just drink.

Like always, she feels him coming. Let's him get closer, allows him and Danny to get close enough that they can see the practiced ease with which she takes back her next shot.

(She wishes the booze didn't make her such a sentimental fool who cares whether someone noticed the elegant curve of her throat.)

"Any plans to slow down there, Officer Kalakaua?" Danny drawls, leaning up against the counter next to her like he has all the time in the world.

She focuses on the blue of his eyes. Danny is Danny. Safe, sarcastic, sensible. A friend. A friend that doesn't look at her like he wants to eat her. A friend who steadies her on her feet, reminds her of why she became a cop in the first place. But even Danny's steady and reassuring presence can't drive away the images lingering behind her eyelids.

"Nope," she replies, popping the 'p' and signaling to the bartender for another.

He gets it for her almost comically fast.

She wishes she could think about him instead.

"Kono," Steve says quietly, and she knows he knows she's studiously ignoring him. She also knows that if she turned to meet his gaze on her other side, she'd see a gaze that would set her on fire. Burning in hell or something else, she doesn't know.

"Boss," she mimics, cringing beneath the alcohol at how childish she sounds. The last thing she wants to do is remind him of how young she is.

A shot glass is in front of her before he has a chance to respond. Danny tries to go for it before she can, hand snaking out to pluck the glass away before she can. Big, dirty, brutal hands flash in her vision, and she's moving before the part of her not living in the past can catch up to the part of her who realizes she'll have to deal with her actions eventually.

Before her fist can hit Danny's startled face, there's another big hand, scarred and warm and familiar, wrapping around her wrist. His chest is warm against her back.

"Shit, Danny-" She breathes, mind feeling clearer than it did before instinct acted against her.

"These guys bothering you?" The bartender has appeared again, drawn to the small commotion, to Danny looking flabbergasted, to the fact that Steve is still pressed against her, holding her wrist in his hand. If she was sober, she wouldn't let herself compare his reedy voice to the deep timber of Steve's, but she's not, so the thought crosses her mind.

"We're fine here," Steve confirms, not even bothering to look at the kid. Even drunk, she sees the way the kid bristles, drawing himself up as tall as he can.

"Okay, Kono, I think you're done here," Danny decides, downing the shot she had ordered and slapping some cash down on the bar to cover her tab.

"Danny-" Kono begins, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Steve still hasn't let go of her.

She can feel the moment he realizes it too, stiffening slightly against her back, gently turning her around to face him, leaning down so he can see into her eyes, see the battle raging there.

To her surprise, it looks like there's a battle in his eyes too. She's too drunk to decipher it right now, but she'll file it away for later when she can handle figuring out what he's hiding in there.

"You said you were fine. This isn't fine, Kono," Steve's voice is way too gentle. It hurts more than if he had yelled at her.

"Hey, let go of her," the bartender has hopped the bar, and seems determined to get into the middle of it.

"It's fine," Kono says to him dimly, unable to take her eyes away from his. Annoyance simmers underneath her skin. She doesn't need some random person to take care of her likes she's in distress. No, she can handle herself, and her team is here. They have her back.

Intensity flares in his eyes as the bartender reaches for her, as if he'll yank her away from Danny and Steve.

"Back off, we've got it handled. Five-0," Danny holds out his badge to the bartender, sounding as annoyed as she feels.

It's too much for her right now, hearing this argument brewing over her. The kid is yelling something back at Danny, Danny's voice rising in return. But Steve is still looking at her, eyes unflinchingly intense, looking through her skin and her facade and her armor to her, to what lies beneath. She knows it's not pretty down there. It's too intense, too much for her drunk mind to grasp.

So she does what she does best. She turns around and she walks away. If she stumbles a bit, no one is going to blame her.

"Kono, babe, what are you doing? I said she's fine, will you back off? She's not going to want to jump in bed with you because you think you're protecting her. She can kick all of our asses five ways to Sunday," Danny calls out, half to her, half to the earnest bartender.

Shimmying her way past a gyrating couple, Kono aches for the freedom of the waves, of the fresh Hawaiian breeze. Anything but in here, where the past is close enough to touch, booze is the only thing keeping nightmares at bay, and he's close enough to temp her already waning self control.

"Steve, please go make sure she doesn't get into any trouble, her cousin is going to murder us if she takes one more shot or let one more kid barely old enough to drink hit on her. I really don't feel like being on the receiving end of that shotgun. You help her, you two are so similar I have nightmares about it sometimes. I will take care of this asshole, and see you on Saturday with Grace," Danny's distinct concerned and worried tone carries over the crowd. She tries to block it out, tries to block out the way she feels him start moving toward her without even having to look.

Blindly, she reaches out and grabs a shot off of a tray moving past her, even as the door comes into view.

Ugh. It's peach vodka, something she could have done without but it burns just right going down, shoving the image of her hands bound in front of her back into the dark recesses of her mind where it belongs.

"Will you stop so we can talk?" Steve's voice is closer than she thought it was, his hand plucking the shot glass out of hers.

"Nothing to talk about." She shouldn't be this proud of not slurring. Making it through the door, she gulps in the clean night air like she's been under water, drowning.

"No, there is something to talk about, Kono, you're drunk. You never get drunk. Just talk to me," he almost pleads. Something inside of her fractures.

Steve is right behind her, huge frame taking up the lions share of air. Concern and intensity radiate off of him, washing over her. She wants to bask in it, to let it warm her skin like the sun does on good days at the beach.

"Steve, I'm fine. You can't fix me this time," she protests, hoping he doesn't notice the way her voice cracks. He does. Of course he does. He notices everything about her.

"Kono," he whispers, low and rough and deep, like her name has all the answers.

But she can't right now, so she digs her keys out of her pocket, determined to make it to her car before she breaks down. She has no plans on driving, but the sight of her keys as she extracts them from her too tight jeans seems to be the final straw for Steve.

"Fuck it," he mutters.

Blinking at the fact that McGarret just swore, she doesn't have time to process anything before he's picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder like she weighs no more than a rag doll.

"Neanderthal!" She definitely slurs this time, all those shots catching up to her at once. The world spins from her perspective much too close to Steve's ass.

"Big word for a drunk. Let's get you home, yeah?" Steve tries for lightness, but falls short. There's too much emotion there, even as he carries her to his truck. She can't escape this time, can't run away or pretend it's not happening.

No, Kono Kalakaua definitely doesn't like getting drunk.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love feedback


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